


Expectations

by Caelum (zanarkand)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, M/M, brotherhood era, it's really barely there, pre-game, slight Ignoct, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 14:32:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10220354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanarkand/pseuds/Caelum
Summary: When Ignis steps into the Crown Prince's apartment for his usual evening check on the prince, the last thing he expects to find is for said prince to be drunk, andgigglingat him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> No real spoilers, I don't think. Not for the game, at least. It's set shortly after the flashback portion of Brotherhood episode 4.

Having looked after the prince in his apartment for the past year now, there are many things Ignis has come to expect when he first steps inside the spacious top-floor living space every evening.

He expects old junk food wrappers and empty aluminum cans from the nights Noctis and Prompto stay up too late playing video games. He expects pencil stubs and crumbled up paper, and textbooks left open to an abandoned page, stray crumbs and coffee stains obscuring the knowledge contained within. He expects sweaty school uniforms and wet towels strewn about the bedroom, dropped where they were first removed. Wrinkled bed sheets, half eaten candy bars, dirty dishes left in the sink with bits of food crusted on them. All of these things are normal, and Ignis expects all of them, often with a weary sort of resignation. 

What Ignis does _not_ expect, and what he is completely surprised to find, is the prince sitting on the floor between the open kitchen and living room area, bleary-eyed but grinning brightly at him. 

"In—Ig—Ing—Iggy!" he cries, lifting both hands towards Ignis. It's the gesture a small child asking for a hug would make to a parent, and it makes Ignis stare from where he's halted just past the doorway. Even without all the empty cans currently littered around Noctis, their logo easily recognisable, it wouldn't take Ignis long to figure out what's wrong with the prince. 

"You're drunk," he says flatly, giving Noctis a highly disapproving look from over the rims of his glasses, tilting his head down. 

Noctis' mouth turns downward, looking unhappy. He lets his arms flop back to his sides, recognising that no hug will be forthcoming. "Are not," he pouts, his words slightly slurred. 

Ignis sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses. He has no desire to deal with a drunk Crown Prince today. Ever, really, but he'd woken up with a headache this morning that had yet to truly go away, thanks to the numerous meetings he'd been in and out of all day—the majority of them dealing with Noctis, or things Noctis should have been overseeing. "The empty beer cans nearby would suggest otherwise." 

Noctis looks around him, confusion written clear in his face. "Nope, there's on'ly a cup'el! _Two_!" he says, confidently holding up three fingers with a flourish. 

Ignis arches an elegant eyebrow in polite disbelief. He quickly counts the visible cans scattered around the prince, trying not to be shocked at the number. He's surprised Noctis isn't passed out, given that he's never been drunk before to Ignis' knowledge. "Your Highness, there are fourteen cans around you. That's just over two six-packs of beer." 

"Sooooo," Noct says, drawing the word out for an unnecessary time. 

Ignis slowly lets out another breath, doing his best to ignore the exasperation he feels. He finally moves toward Noctis, and leans down to begin picking up the empty cans, surreptitiously keeping an eye out for any that still have alcohol in them—Noctis definitely doesn't need any more to drink tonight. To his relief he doesn't find any, and he stacks all the empties on the counter to be recycled later. 

He's just placed the last of them up there when he feels it. A sloppy hand squeezing judiciously at the flesh of his butt. He lets out a startled noise, and whirls around to face the prince, who's grinning unashamedly at him. "You have a wudner—wern—great ass, Iggy," Noctis says happily. 

Ignis flushes dark red, even as he chides, "Language, Your Highness," automatically. "And please don't grope me," he adds, though it comes out less stern than he'd like. Noctis' hand there hadn't been... unpleasant. With a mental groan, he chalks it up to hormones—he is only eighteen, after all. He most definitely is _not_ attracted to the Crown Prince of Insomnia. 

Noctis laughs, and the sound is so endearing that Ignis catches himself almost smiling, despite the less than ideal situation he has to deal with right now. He wonders what made Noctis embark on his drunken adventure in the first place. He shouldn't have had anything particularly stressful to deal with today. Usually on Fridays he hung out with Prompto after school until the late evening, the two of them often playing video games or watching movies while they snacked on unhealthy amounts of junk food. Or Noctis did, at least—now that he thinks about it, he's rarely seen Prompto partake in all the sweets Noctis buys with his allowance. Shaking his head, Ignis decides it doesn't matter. The best thing to do is just get Noctis to bed for now. He can always question him in the morning, after a thorough lecture that will probably go in one ear and out the other. 

He leaves Noctis giggling on the floor, trying to ignore how unsettling it is to hear the usually moody and sullen prince _giggling_ , and heads to the bedroom, clearing a path to the bed. 

"Iggy!" Noctis calls to him. "Come have a drink!" 

"No thank you," he calls back, but then he hears the familiar sound of a can being popped open. He lets out a quiet groan, realising Noctis has more alcohol stashed away—he should have checked for it. He quickly heads back out to the prince, snatching the beer out of his hands. Alarmingly, the can is already over half empty. Noctis must have chugged it down. It'd be impressive, if Ignis didn't have to be the one to deal with it all. 

"Hey!" Noctis protests, seemingly indignant. "Tha's mine!" 

"It was empty," Ignis lies, setting it down next to the kitchen sink to pour out later. 

Noctis frowns, looking confused. "I don' know..." 

"Your Highness, I believe it's time for bed." 

The frown deepens. "I wish you'd call me Noct. I miss us being friends..." 

"It's not proper," Ignis says, somewhat stiffly. He misses it too, however. And Ignis knows the blame lies mostly with him. He's pulled back, created more distance between them. He'd meant it only in good intentions, but he's aware it's changed things between them in ways that aren't necessarily for the better. The road to hell, and such. 

"Never used to stop you..." Noctis mutters, groping around him for another can and pouting when he comes up empty. 

Ignis looks down at him, thinking that for all his grins and giggles, Noctis looks rather miserable. It's really a pitiful sight. He relents, if just for tonight. "Very well. Let's get you to bed... Noct." 

The smile he gets for that is wide and genuine, and makes him realise he can't even recall the last time he's seen a smile like that on the prince's face. The thought makes Ignis' heart ache. Perhaps he does need to rethink the distance he's placed. He goes over to Noctis, holding out a hand for the prince to grasp. Noctis looks at it uncertainly for a moment, and then takes it, almost shyly. He somehow gets Noctis to his feet, but they've barely taken two steps when Noctis halts, grabbing at his stomach and leaning heavily against Ignis. "I don' feel so good..." he says. 

Ignis recognises the signs and quickly changes directions, steering the prince towards the bathroom instead. He's just in time, too, for as soon as they cross the threshold Noctis makes a gagging sound deep in his throat and then lunges for the toilet, bringing up all that he's ingested in the last few hours. Ignis wrinkles his nose at the acrid smell that soon assaults his nostrils, but he ignores it to grab a washcloth from the towel closet—black, of course, and of the finest quality threads, the small square of cloth is probably softer and fluffier than Ignis' entire pillow—and dampens it with warm water, folding and placing it against the nape of Noctis' neck. It's normally only something he does when Noctis is flush with fever, but he figures the familiarity of it will likely be comforting to Noctis. 

Several minutes later, Noctis slumps back, reaching a shaky hand up to flush away the mess in the toilet before scooting to lean against the opposite wall. He's pale now, sweat rolling down the sides of his face, making strands of his hair cling wetly to his forehead and cheeks. "I don't feel good," he moans again, and Ignis stifles the urge to lecture him about the consequences of drinking, instead taking the washcloth and wetting it anew, wiping gently at Noctis' face. 

Or mostly. He can't resist a small jab, because he wants Noctis to remember this night the next time he thinks about picking up a can of beer. "Perhaps you'll think twice next time before opening that first can?" Noctis has at least stopped slurring his words now, so hopefully the alcohol has lessened its grip on him some. 

He's shocked at hearing a quiet sniffle, and stops in his ministrations when he catches sight of a few stray tears making their way down Noctis' cheeks. "Your—Noct?" he says uncertainly. 

"I just wanted it all to go away..." Noctis says in a small voice, the words catching in his throat. More tears spill from his eyes, but Ignis supposes he's just drunk enough to not care, as he doesn't turn his head away in shame, which is his usual reaction to the rare times he breaks down in front of Ignis or Gladio. 

"Come again?" Ignis asks, not sure what 'it' Noctis is referring to. There's a hundred things about his life that he's been avoiding the past couple of years, but none of them has ever pushed him into getting drunk before. Ignis can't fathom why one of those things would make him start now. 

There's a stifled sob, which makes Ignis shift uncomfortably. Noctis isn't emotionless, far from it, but ever since his accident he's kept his emotions more closely under wraps, only letting those closest to him get a glimpse at the real him, and Ignis has so little experience with a crying prince that he's never sure how to handle it. He sighs, tossing the washcloth in the sink, and resigns himself to dropping down to the floor to sit next to Noctis, trying not to think about all the grime that's gathered on the tile since it was likely last mopped two weeks ago, when he himself had done so. "I shall listen if you wish to unburden yourself," he says, and winces at how stiff and formal sounding it comes out. "I'm always willing to lend an ear, Noct," he adds more softly. 

At first there's only silence, but then Noctis speaks, his voice a barely audible hush that Ignis has to strain to hear over the quiet hum of the AC kicking on. "I saw Dad today." 

Ignis furrows his eyebrows, confused. "Did you have a fight?" Surely he would have heard about it— 

Noctis shakes his head, slowly. "No. He was going on about wanting me to take on more duties, preparing me more to be king when he's... when it's my time, but..." He trails off, drawing his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. A few ragged breaths claw their way out of his throat. He looks away, eyes watering, staring blankly at the ornate glass doors of the shower. 

Ignis waits, prompting him gently when it's clear that more isn't forthcoming. "But?" 

"A few days ago, I saw him with the cane—I was out with Prompto—he didn't even tell me—it was on the tv..." Noctis' words are disjointed, his explanation jumbled as he struggles to speak through his distress. Ignis almost wishes he could tell the prince to stop, feeling upset at seeing Noctis so out of sorts, but he remains silent, sensing that Noctis needs to talk about this, having kept it bottled up for far too long. Though it does at least clear up the sudden mood Noctis had been in a few days ago, when Ignis had lost his temper a bit and become too harsh with his words. 

"And I knew, but today... _seeing_ him walk with it, seeing him try to hide the pain his leg was causing him, and then to act like he was okay, and to talk like everything was normal, like he wasn't preparing me for when he's going to fucking _die_ —I just couldn't, Specs," Noctis admits, his voice trembling on the last few words before another sob escapes him. He buries his face in his hands briefly, taking a few deep breaths in an obvious attempt to calm himself. When he lifts his head again, his cheeks are wet with fresh tears. 

"So you turned to alcohol in order to avoid thinking about it." 

"I just wanted to be able to forget about it for awhile. I wanted to not think about what it was like to see him with that cane, or what might happen as he keeps worsening... I just wanted it all to _go away_ ," he repeats, swiping a hand across his nose as he sniffles. 

"Alcohol rarely ever truly manages to make our problems go away," he tells Noctis with a sigh as he absently adjusts his glasses. "More often they simply mask them, or allow us to prolong our avoidance of them for another day." 

Noctis lets out another sniffle, yet more tears splashing down into his lap as he bows his head ashamedly at Ignis' words. "I'm sorry..." he mumbles. "I know it was dumb, and you'd be mad..." 

Ignis shakes his head, though Noctis isn't looking at him. "We'll save the lecture for tomorrow, perhaps?" he says gently, even though most of his annoyance with the prince has faded in the wake of Noctis' honest confession of his emotions, for once. "Though I must admit curiosity as to how you procured so much alcohol... Even if you are the Crown Prince of Lucis, I can hardly see shopkeepers just selling it to you, if only to avoid the king's wrath." 

Noctis does look up then, grinning slightly through his tears as his face turns a bit pink. "Nicked it from Gladio's secret stash," he admits. 

"Ah. You shall not be the only one getting a lecture from me tomorrow, then." 

Noctis laughs at that, and then immediately clutches at his stomach, wincing. "I still don't feel very good." 

"No, I imagine not. However, there's little you can do other than sleep it off and hope your hangover isn't too severe in the morning." 

Noctis groans, likely already dreading the thought. "Can't I just sleep the whole day?" 

Ignis stands, and reaches out a hand to him. "I'm afraid not," he says. "Come now, let's get you to bed." 

The prince lets out a loud sigh, but takes the proffered hand, still swaying a bit as he gets back to his feet. They manage to make it to his bedroom without any mishaps though, and Noctis starts stripping clothes off as soon as he's in the room, making Ignis flush and turn away to give him some belated privacy. He turns back when he hears Noctis flop onto his bed, just in time to see him dragging the covers over himself, his movements a bit jerky in his leftover inebriation. Ignis quickly goes to get him a glass of water from the kitchen, which he sets on Noctis' bedside table. "If you wake up throughout the night, please try to drink some water," he says. "It will help." 

"Mhmm," Noctis mumbles, drowsiness beginning to overtake him now that he's comfortably horizontal. 

"I shall be back in the morning, to check on you and deliver the promised lecture," Ignis tells him. 

"Mhmm," Noctis repeats. He lifts his head from his pillow then, bleary eyes somehow managing to focus on Ignis. "Thanks Iggy," he says, his words slightly slurred once more, this time from exhaustion rather than drunkenness. "For takin' care of me, an' listenin'..." 

"It's my pleasure," Ignis says warmly, looking down at Noctis with a fond smile. "Now, get some rest." 

"Yes, mom," Noctis mutters, a sleepy grin tugging at his mouth. "Night, Iggy." 

Ignis steps towards the door, flipping the lights off. "Good night, Noct," he returns softly, and listens to the slow, even breathing that tells him Noct has finally fallen asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I just felt like writing this. Yep. I guess I just have a thing for a crying, angsting Noct.


End file.
